


Unfinished Argo Snippet

by handlewithkara



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alien Biology, Alien Culture, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2021-02-24 17:09:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21721489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/handlewithkara/pseuds/handlewithkara
Summary: Unfished Argo snippet written way when season 3 was still going on.
Relationships: Kara Danvers & Alura In-Ze | Alura Zor-El, Kara Danvers/Mon-El
Comments: 4
Kudos: 23





	Unfinished Argo Snippet

„You are staying, then?“

He nods, not taking his eyes off the shelf as he looks for the right tools. “It’s not every day that you get to help a culture that everybody thought was gone.”

Kara slinks closer. “Is that all?”

His shoulders slump. “No.” He only half turns to her, unable to meet her eyes. “I’m here, because I’m still in love with you.”

Her heart stops, she isn’t sure whether to smile or cry, whether to be happy or scared or angry.

“What about Imra?”

Mon-El winces. “We didn’t exactly choose to get married. There was a political situation, the concordate, we thought it would be the wisest thing, that it would save lives. I don’t have much to offer to you. I… I hurt you. I, I don’t even … The future has changed, Imra’s sister is alive, hopefully. I don’t even know if I’m still married anymore, if there was still a need for us to get married. I understand if that is not enough for you. I don’t expect anything from you, but I thought you deserved to know.”

Kara blinks, tears forming in her eyes. “Thank you. Thank you for telling me.”

“Is it okay, if I stay, or would you rather …”

“No! I mean, yes. I want you to stay.”

*

Her mom leads her to her room with short, tepid steps. Some furniture has been moved in, covered by planes, but all the toys, all the pictures are the same.

“I didn’t change too much, I couldn’t bring myself to use it.”

Kara nods. A lump builds up in her throat. She grasps the picture that shows her on her cresting day, white robes, the ring of cresting on her head, her father beaming with pride. She tries to smile through the tears.

She’s grateful for Alura’s touch.

*

“Mon-El?”

“Mmmm?”

“My mom, she kept my old room. It’s wonderful, it’s, it’s just bit much to take in.”

He nods.

“Can I come in?”

He blinks, because after all, she already is in his room. Then it dawns on him.

Wordlessly he lifts the covers and lets her slip in.

*

“You shouldn’t have to do this!”

“Kara, it’s okay. It’s fine, really.”

“But it’s not fair. Why just you? I don’t want them treating you, like,” she lowers her voice to a conspirative whisper, “like a lab animal.”

“Our species are closely related, by studying him, we could gain new understanding for our people,” the magister from the science guild interjects.

“I don’t like it. I’ve been away for a long time, too. You should study me as well.”

*

They sign up for the repair squad. It’s strange to be without her flight. Hovering underneath the city, the sounds from her breathing mask in her ear, watching soil and rock break away slowly and drift off into space.

They don’t have to say it.

It’s not a good sign.

The base of Argo has always been stable, to protect against quakes. It’s gonna take a long time for it to crumble, but something has to be done.

*

“Here take it. It’s from the future. Maybe it can help.”

There’s just the faintest hint of hesitation as he slides his Legion ring off his finger and hands it over to the science guild.

Kara fights the urge to grab his arm, to stop him. Ask him whether he is sure.

But his jaw his set, his eyes determined.

Their eyes meet. One of them has to say it.

“You have to make contact,” Kara blurts out.

“Trade, ask for help”, Mon-El adds.

“You could use our ship. The fuel won’t last forever, but now you can leave, it’s a start.”

The magister’s shoulder’s tense.

“Your city needs a real home. 2.4 million souls in Argo city. It will be hard to persuade an inhabited planet to take you in. Your people should prepare for it.”

“We will take your advice into consideration.”

The magister turns to her. “Do you wish to call another meeting of the council, Kara Zor-El?”

“No, I’m good. But promise you will discuss it.”

“Of course, Kara Zor-El.” The man hesitates. “Your father was a colleague. A good friend. The last time I saw you, you numbered less than 10 cycles. It’s a great joy to see you again.”

*

“You have done this before,” she asks as they walk, leaving the science guild building behind.

“Yes. Kind of. It’s a long story.”

“Blight?”

“No, something different.”

“Are you gonna tell me about it?”

He stops. “Sure, if you want me to.”

She bites her lip. “You gave your ring away.”

Mon-El looks down on his feet. “I felt it might be needed here.”

*

The first time they do it without powers is in a rickety old garden shed, against a wooden wall.

They sweat more and it doesn’t last as long, but his mouth still tastes as it always has. She bites his lip and scratches the back of his neck. They do it fast, trying to swallow each other’s moans with hungry kisses, not wanting to be interrupted by the caretakers.

She feels it longer, afterwards.

And the hickey on her neck stays for two days.

*

Things are changing around here. It’s not a bad change. Maybe Argo needs more change, Alura muses.

It’s little things, subtle. Like Kara coming out of his room in the morning, or when her daughter asks about the chances to get her own place (she can’t, real estate is among the most limited things in Argo City).

People come to visit, in overalls with dirt smudged faces.

Kara and Mon-El spend three days trying to recreate something called ice cream. It doesn’t seem to work and Alura is confused, because Kara tells her that this food is of limited nutritional value and even unhealthy.

The house is no longer empty, people come and go.  
She realizes that she’s not used to it anymore, to the house not being empty.

*

They sit together, just the two of them. Her daughter, her pride, her joy. Alura squeezes her hand, no longer the hand of a little girl.

There are so many things left unsaid, undiscussed.

The words spill out of her. She tries to stop herself. She is Alura, esteemed council member.

But the words keep on spilling. She speaks of the darkness, the fear, right after they found themselves saved. The hunger, all that death.

It’s the first time she speaks to anyone about Zor-El’s death.

For a moment it is as if she has become the daughter, with Kara’s comforting arms wrapped around her.

*

“When I saw her disappear, swallowed up by the darkness, the same darkness that took in Fort Rozz… Part of me thought that maybe this was my punishment. For all those I sent away, I lost the thing I loved the most.”

*

One day Alura sees her necklace again, around Mon-El’s neck. It takes her a while to realize that he has always been wearing it, she has seen hints of the cord before, but only now he’s wearing it openly. It’s the same time when he moves into Kara’s room.

They’ve also taken to walking with their hands joined. It’s an unfamiliar sight, a gesture usually reserved for families.

It’s not respectful for a mother to pry into her daughter’s life, but who can blame a mother for wanting to know more? She knocks politely on Kara’s door and only enters after being invited.

She has come to see her daughter, to hold her hand, to ask her how she’s feeling. Getting to step into her daughter’s room is just a fortuitous side effect.

Her eyes sweep around the chamber. It’s not a little girl’s room anymore. Tools and papers from their work litter the table, male clothes hang from a chair.

“Kelex hasn’t been in yet, I’m, I’m not used to cleaning taking that long,” Kara says apologetically.

“Don’t worry, this is your home now.”

Kara beams and throws her arms around Alura’s neck.

*

A young women approaches her, wearing the gylph of house Ur.

“Greetings to you, daughter of Zor-El.”

“Greetings to you.”

Curiosity and respect battle it out inside her guest, if her face is any indication.

“You have been away for a long time,” she blurts out at all.

Kara nods. “Such is known.”

The woman settles back in her chair. “My mate and I are very forward thinking. We are non-matched, we selected each other.” She pauses, unsure how to continue. “We couldn’t help but notice that the unusual behavior between you and your mate.”

She leans in closer. “Your hands are often linked when you are in public. Is that a Daxamite custom? Is there a special meaning to it?”

“Not really. Humans do it, too. It is a frequent custom. Many species have it.”

Her guest mulls over the answer, trying to fit this information into her worldview. “He kisses you often, doesn’t he?”

Kara tilts her head. “I guess he does.”

*

The next time she sees Janna Dax-Ur stroll across the market with her mate their hands are joined.

Kara smiles.

“Everything okay, babe?”

Kara grabs his hand tighter.

“Yep, all is good.”

*

She settles down in Mon-El’s lap, resting back against his chest.

“They look at me. Like, like they are curious where I will go, like they expect me to still make a decision.” They would never say anything. Kryptonians are respectful. Still, she feels the distance that is there. Their looks that say that they haven’t decided yet whether she has come to be one of theirs or just as a guest.

“I thought that it would be different here, that I would finally be home. Among my people. I’m too loud, impatient, not respectful enough of my elders.”

Mon-El runs his palm along her back. “They might not understand it yet, but you have the best of all worlds.”

She takes a hold of his hand and hides her face in the crook of his neck.

“Do you think that that’s my fate,” she whispers. “No matter where I go, I will never fully belong?”.

He ponders, quietly, for a while.

“I think your home is where your heart wants it to be.”

“I miss Alex, I miss her so much.”

*

She kneels down in the temple, her mother beside her. It is the Feast of Light, being held the traditional way. Only with more speeches to commemorate the dead.

Mon-El could attend they assured her, as a guest.

He is invited to share their faith and celebration.

As a guest.

Then the prayers swell. Kara clings to her candle. She can feel her mothers gaze on her, tears stream down her face.

*

“I have to do this. I hope you understand. I wouldn’t, I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if I didn’t at least try.”

“Kara, it’s okay. I get it, I really do.”

She searches his face, for any sign of dishonesty, but there is none.


End file.
